Week In Hell
by DemiSpy
Summary: Yo. My Home Eco. teacher released an ultimatum on me. See, my project partner and I will give some kid from the orphanage the best week of his or her life, spending a whole week cooped up in some apartment the school ever so generously provided for us-teacher's words, not mine. Who is my partner, anyway? The 'girl'. Yeah, that one. Fly on, -Nick. AU/AH. Complete.
1. I Receive an Ultimatum

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, or any brand/place/thing you may recognize.**

**Claimer: I own my plot, and my story. **

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**Welcome to Nick's Blog!**

You are visitor number: Sorry guys, I still haven't found one that won't get busted…

_Friday, October 22._

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New Blog Post: I Receive an Ultimatum—From the Home Eco. Teacher

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Yo.

Today is officially down there with some of my other really bad days, sitting a few spots away from the incident. Yes, _that_ bad.

My day started out pretty badly. As in, waking up to the sound—and later, the smell—of one of Gazzy's _gifts_. Not the best way to start the day, right?

Then I got sent to the principal's office during first period. No, I didn't do anything. Anne had called the school to pass on a message for me. Why she couldn't have called my cell phone and save herself the trouble was beyond me… until I remembered that Iggy had taken it apart a week ago for one of his experiments.

It was first period—bright, early hours of the morning—, what did you expect?

Anne's message was simple: she had to leave on an emergency trip for work, so her sister, my 'aunt', would come stay with us until she returned. That got me pretty confused. Why would my aunt have to come over? Usually, when Anne left on work trips, I was in charge.

I got my answer during third period.

You remember my Home Eco. teacher, right? That weirdo that cracks some really good jokes. Yeah, that one.

My midterm exam got moved up, strangely enough. Except that, instead of a paper and sixty minutes to fill it up with what I supposed were the correct answers, I got a project.

A freakin' week-long project.

Brief project overview: Me + project partner + some kid from the local orphanage = best week of the kid's life. We'll spend the whole week cooped up in some apartment the school ever so _generously _provided for us (the teacher's words, not mine), just us three acting out our part as a completely dysfunctional 'family'.

Joy.

This could've ended up worse for me. I could be paired up with, say, the skank. Or one of her friends. That would've been a lot worse than my actual partner.

Err… I think.

I'll let you decide: which do you think is worse? Remember, I have to spend a whole week with this girl, doing the whole 'mommy and daddy' act for the orphan kid.

The skank, or the girl?

Yeah, yeah. _That _girl. You know which one. (If you're new to the blog, and you actually _don't _know which one, please refer to posts from early September.)

I can honestly say this week will be hell. She hates me. A lot. And, unless by some miracle I change her mind about me at some point during this week, I'm doomed.

I'm mentally preparing myself as I type. That… and wondering whether I finished my Social Studies paper. It's supposedly due next week… does that mean I have to turn it in once I get back from the week in hell? Probably…

Seeing as the project will span the _entire _next week, all the way up to Sunday night, I should get working on that paper. No need to be working on it during the dawning hours on Monday. I think we've established that I cherish my sleep.

And, on that note, I should probably go.

Vote in the comments: The skankor the girl? Which would ultimately end up in my death first?

Fly on,

-Nick.

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TAGS: _Bad days; the girl; the skank; Home Eco; Project: Family._

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*Nick does not use real people's names in his blog posts without express permission from said people. These names may be aliases chosen by said people. Please don't waste your time trying to 'sue' Nick in the comments section. It gets annoying after a while. Thank-you.*

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**AN:**

**Short, I know. The rest of the chapters will be longer, I promise.**

**I added a chapter to Project: Family, explaining everything. I didn't want to taint this story with my famous, mile-long ANs. If you want to know what's going to happen with this story, and what's going to happen to Project: Family, go and read it. You may cuss me out in the reviews for that one, but I'll be selfish and ask you to please not do that. **

**You can rant away in a PM, though, if you like.**

**To new readers: Welcome to the story! It's a sequel of sorts, to my year-old story, Project: Family. My suggestion: for every chapter you read here, read one in the other story. And bounce along like that to get the full scoop of it. See, I'm editing PF, and will upload an edited chapter for every chapter I upload in this story.**

**Thanks for checking this out, people! To my old fans, I'm really sorry. Check out my AN in PF to get an explanation on everything I'm doing right now. I promise I'll make sure it isn't a mile-long. I know I used to annoy you guys with those :)**

**I should update in about four days. I'm taking this one a bit slower than PF, to make sure I don't fall behind. In the meantime, review?**

**-DemiSpy.**

**PS. I couldn't come up with a better title and, to be honest, I just don't like it. Suggestions, anyone? 'Winner' gets a sneak peek at the next chapter (so make sure you're not anonymous in the suggestion, else I won't be able to PM the excerpt to you...)**

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**Important Note: Something got messed up in the story summary. I already fixed it-the changes should be up in about an hour, according to FF. Blah.**


	2. Weekend

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, or any brand/place/thing you may recognize.**

**Claimer: I own my plot, and my story.**

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**Welcome to Nick's Blog!**

You are visitor number: Still busted…

_Sunday, October 24._

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New Blog Post: Weekend

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Yo.

Out of the seventy votes I received in the comments, sixty-four said that the girlwould result in my death first, though the skank would undoubtedly lead to suicide. Do you have such little faith in me?

Everyone agreed on the same thing, though. Apparently, all of you think my being paired with the girl is the single best thing that has ever happened. Seriously?

No, people. This isn't a sign of fate that we should take this chance and fix up everything that happened. It's a sign of fate that life really, really hates me. But whatever. To each his own opinion, or however that saying goes.

Yesterday the girl and I went to the orphanage to pick out a kid. Some of the kids screamed. Others cowered in fear. A couple of them had the gall to tug on my hair (and the girl actually _rewarded_ them for it).

We were there for hours. Needless to say, I was _not _comfortable there. I wanted to get out of there, and badly, but I couldn't just run out and let the girl think I'm a coward. Whatever bad opinion she has of me, I certainly don't want to make it worse. Right? Right.

Anyhow. We finally found a kid. So she's the kid now, alright? Good. She's a six-year-old little girl; the girl is totally in love with her. I didn't know she was good with kids. But she really is.

The problem with the kid is that she speaks Spanish. No English. Nada. My level of Spanish isn't _that _bad—actually, it's pretty good. But I'm not going to say that to the girl, because it's fun to have her translate. She gets all riled up when she does it.

We bumped into the skank at the orphanage. I managed to avoid conversation—_thankfully. _The girl just laughed at my expense. I felt so loved right then.

After that, we went to school to turn in our papers. On our way to the Home Eco. classroom, we bumped into the _friend_ and his partner. Rumor has it he has a crush on that girl... yeah, right. He used to have a crush on the girl, and I find it pretty hard to believe he's over her.

How can _he _be over her when I'm not?

It's no secret, is it? Darn, it's been a while since I last admitted that to myself. Moving on, moving on. I won't ponder the subject.

After turning in our papers, we went out to the car. She went over them while I drove to her house. She explained some stuff, I dropped her off, she invited me to come inside, I couldn't exactly say no… et cetera. You know the drill.

The sister glared at me when she saw me. She glared a lot. I wonder if her face is permanently fixed like that.

Once I left, she was waiting outside for me. I couldn't exactly avoid that conversation, so I stayed—reluctantly—and let her rant away. Here's more or less how that went:

"_What do you want, _?"_

_She leaned into her seat. "A promise. You cannot, under any circumstance, hurt her again. Easy as it sounds. _ is a tough one to break, and you broke her. You of all people." She got a faraway look in her eyes. "I don't even know how you managed that," she mumbled, more to herself than to me. She looked back to me. "You're not my favorite person in the world, Nick. Clearly, you don't like me much either. So let's get this straight. You suddenly show up at my house with my sister after two months of my being unable to even utter your name in front of said sister, and how am I supposed to react in front of her? I can't blow up in front of her, can I? Hence why I'm talking to you now."_

_Come to think of it, her reaction when she saw me earlier was a bit too soft… too non-explosive. _

_She must've noticed where my train of thought was going, because she spoke up: "My sister didn't need the memories in that moment. Bad enough that she has to spend time with you. A full week, for that matter." She leaned on the edge of her plastic chair. "I will be watching you. If I see something I don't like, if I _hear _something I don't like—I won't let it slide. Do I make myself clear?"_

_I nodded, restraining myself as hard as I could from rolling my eyes._

"_Good," she said, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. "You can leave now."_

_I stood up and eyed her carefully. I trudged down her porch steps, and as an afterthought, I told her: "It wasn't my fault, you know? Whatever I did, or whatever she thinks I did, I didn't mean it." _

So dramatic, I know. The sister is in drama class for a reason, after all. Anyhow. Consider me threatened. I'll tell you how the week turns out as I go. If the sister doesn't kill me first, of course.

On another topic, my aunt arrived today. I picked her up from the airport in the morning. She's as cheery, bright, and happy-go-merry as I remember her. Poor Iggy and Gazzy, they'll be stuck with her for the whole week while I'm away living with the girl and the kid.

…come to think of it, maybe they got the better end of the deal.

Whatever. I went to pick up the girl this afternoon, and we went to leave our stuff at the apartment. It's nice, I guess. Spacious. There's a park right outside of the apartment complex, something I think the kid will appreciate.

I didn't talk much today. I'm kind of scared. If I anger the girl too early on, she'll make my week hell. I'm sure of it.

So, in other words, I'm kind of distressed. Let's just hope I survive this week alive, and I'll be happy with that. I'm not picky.

A quick note before I sign off—whoever commented that my Home Eco. teacher is a total nutjob, I praise you for seeing reason, dude. And I wholeheartedly agree.

Fly on,

-Nick.

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TAGS: _Bad days; the girl; the skank; the sister; the kid; orphanage; Home Eco; Project: Family._

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*Nick does not use real people's names in his blog posts without express permission from said people. These names may be aliases chosen by said people. Please don't waste your time trying to 'sue' Nick in the comments section. It gets annoying after a while. Thank-you.*

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**AN:**

**Little longer, right? I think the next one will be even more, though I can't remember. It's ready, but it'll be up until... Monday, I think. **

**Did you guys like the scene with Ella? When I was originally re-writing PF in Fang's POV, I wrote that scene. I just couldn't leave it behind...**

**Thank-you so much for all the reviews. Certainly not living up to the standard PF set, but I think I deserve that. **

**Still, for inspiration, a smile on my face, and one of Val's virtual chocolate chip cookies... review?**

**-DemiSpy.**

**PS. Edited chapter 2 of PF is up now, if you want to head onto that :)**


	3. Day 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, or any brand/trademark you may recognize.**

**Claimer: Everything else is mine.**

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**Welcome to Nick's Blog!**

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You are visitor number: I'm working on it! Sheesh!

_Monday, October 25._

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New Blog Post: Day 1

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Yo.

Somebody in the comments said that the sister sounded hot. How on earth does she sound hot? Seriously. She was scolding me, _threatening me_, as if she were… I don't know. She's scary. She's not hot.

Besides, Iggy has dibs. Sorry, dude.

On to today's events. Let's see…

As planned, I was at the girl's house at nine sharp, waiting to pick her up. I rang the doorbell twice and got no answer. I couldn't hear anything coming from the inside. I called her house phone, then her cell phone, and then again her cell phone. And I got no answer.

So I got kind of worried, because I knew she was alone. Her parents worked, and her sister was at school by then, so I rounded the house and—thankfully—found that her back door was open. Feeling like a creep, I walked into her house (silently, of course), and trudged up the stairs after inspecting the first floor.

The moment I reached the top floor, the blaring of her music reached me. You have no idea how relieved I was—yes, yes, Nick got worried. Deal with it.

I knocked on her bedroom door, y'know, just in case, and promptly heard a loud crash. I opened the door to see what had happened, and was met by the funniest sight I'd seen in a long time.

The girl had tripped or something, crashing into her nightstand. Her music had abruptly stopped, though I wasn't sure why, and all of her hair was in her face. She blew it out of her face, which did her absolutely no good, with an annoyed expression. Then her eyes focused on me, and she glared.

Oh, well. I should've known.

She stood up and proceeded to interrogate me on why I was there and all that, and no, I didn't admit that I'd actually gotten worried. Instead, she was the one that said: _"And you decided to come and see what was taking my lazy bum so long, right?"_

I'd just shrugged, which seemed to be enough of an answer for her.

After that… interesting series of events, we went to the orphanage to pick up the kid, and then headed to the apartment. The girls watched TV for a while (in Spanish) while I replied to some of the comments here on the blog. So you're welcome.

Then we went out to McDonald's to eat. I was blackmailed into it, although it wasn't really necessary. But yeah, the girl stole my keys. She gave them back, though.

Still, I'm keeping my keys on me at all times from now on. Wouldn't want her to get any ideas.

After we ate, the kid went to the play area while the girl and I got ice cream. We stood along the railing that lined the play area, just watching the kid.

Then… the apocalypse. The girl giggled.

Sure, the kid looked really freaking cute while playing around, but c'mon! _She giggled_.

So I started to tease her about it. And she teased me in return. In the end, the whole situation culminated in a big, sticky ice cream fight.

We smelled pretty good by the end of it, if I do say so myself.

The problem here was, the girl kind of slipped on some of the ice cream that littered the floor. (I'm surprised we didn't get kicked out.) She landed on me, steadying herself by grabbing onto my shoulders and chest.

Man, that felt pretty freaking awesome. Just saying.

Anyhow. We were in a rather compromising position, if I do say so myself, and she _was _about to kiss me, but… yeah. She ran away.

It was to be expected, though I admit it stung a little.

After we cleaned ourselves up, and ignored the glaring janitors, we left McDonald's. I really wanted to take a shower, but the kid had other plans.

And so we went to the park. We stayed there for about an hour. It was empty, besides us of course, which was pretty lucky on our part. I didn't really want anyone else staring at my ice-cream covered state. And I'm pretty sure the girl agrees with me.

Once we were back at the apartment, both the girl and I headed straight for the shower. Mind you, there are _two _showers in the apartment, and we each used one, _individually_. Don't go getting any stupid ideas, you freaks.

After that we kind of avoided each other, and so here I am, typing this post. It's about eleven pm, and I'm positive I have a long day ahead of me so…

Fly on,

-Nick.

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TAGS: _ice-cream incident_; _the girl; the skank; the sister; the kid; Home Eco; Project: Family; PF-Day 1._

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*Nick does not use real people's names in his blog posts without express permission from said people. These names may be aliases chosen by said people. Please don't waste your time trying to 'sue' Nick in the comments section. It gets annoying after a while. Thank-you.*

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**AN:**

**So... how'd that turn out?**

**The review count for this story is kind of sad. That's all I'm gonna say. Thanks to those that do review! Very appreciated!**

**See you guys on Friday!**

**-DemiSpy.**

**PS. I fixed the 'edited' chapter 2 on PF (why didn't anyone tell me? Thanks to Sinca for pointing that out), and the edited chapter 3 is now up. Head that way? Drop a review? :P**


	4. Day 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to James Patterson, or any brand/trademark you may recognize.  
**

**Claimer: Everything else is mine.**

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**Welcome to Nick's Blog!**

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You are visitor number: I found a new one… it didn't work.

_Tuesday, October 26._

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New Blog Post: Day 2

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Yo.

Whoever commented that I shouldn't have knocked on the girl's door yesterday morning, in case I could "appreciate the view"… I have my mind set on disemboweling you. Slowly. Painfully. So watch it.

Honestly, people. What kind of guy do you think I am? I'm a freakin' teenager!

Oh… wait. Never mind. Just… gah. Forget it.

_Anyway_. Today was an interesting day. And exhausting. So exhausting, in fact, that I should be sleeping right now, not typing. We all know how much I cherish my sleep.

However, today (tonight?) I deem myself an insomniac, and so I am typing up this post at eleven pm.

Huh. It feels as if it were much, much later.

Anyhow. Recounting the day's events…

I woke up early. Too early. Unable to fall back asleep, I took a shower and started working on breakfast. The kid came into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, about ten minutes later. She looked cute, wearing a flowery nightgown.

I shamelessly admit she's turning me into a softie. Deal with it.

After ten minutes of sign language (and a game of Yay or Nay with the food boxes in the pantry), we agreed on pancakes.

She took out a coloring book from her room and settled at the dining table. She was very, very concentrated in what she was doing, biting her lip and scrunching up her eyebrows, so I let her be and turned back to my pancakes.

About twenty minutes later, I heard the shower running, so I set aside a plate of pancakes and drenched them in syrup. I set them on the table and continued working.

Sure enough, about five minutes later, the girl joined us, staring (almost drooling) at my stack of finished pancakes. I just grinned and pointed to the table, where her stack awaited her.

In a sense, it was almost endearing to watch her dig into her plate. Almost.

After that, we sat down to play Mario Bros on our Wii. The kid found an unnatural love for it—and, okay, she's good at it. The girl dropped out of the game a little while later, but the kid and I continued for several hours. It turned into a bit of a competition.

_Of course_, yours truly won. Have you such faith in me?

The girl was kind enough to fix up some fish sticks for us. She didn't burn down the kitchen, which both impressed and relieved me.

After that, the kid wanted to go someplace else, so the girl thought of the carnival. Yesterday, we'd seen some people putting it up.

We went to check if it was open yet, but a guy there told us we had to wait till seven pm. So we went back to the apartment—and guess what? The kid wanted to play Wii. Personally, I was already kind of tired of it, but was forced to play anyway. Dominated by a six-year-old girl. Who would've thought?

The problem this time around was that she didn't want to play Mario Bros. anymore. She wanted to play "the game in the pink box".

I was tortured, I tell you! Tortured! I could almost feel the designers of that wretched, My Little Pony game laughing at me from wherever they were.

I will never fully recover.

Seven pm could've arrived sooner, but the point is it arrived.

At the carnival things between the girl and I went up and down, and up, and down. It's almost like a cycle, in my opinion. Things start to look up… and then something happens that ruins everything.

Just as we arrived, the girl and I made a truce of sorts—which involved my talking more, and us being… err, civil. I think.

We both ended up ditching the truce, of course. But all was well while it lasted.

First off, the kid won a jumbo lollipop at Hit the Target. She has nearly perfect aim. Will her hidden talents ever cease to amaze me?

After that, we went to the bumper cars. The girl partnered up with the kid in a blue bumper car—I was all alone in my black bumper car. So sad, I know. Anyhow, we made it some sort of competition to see who could hit the other more times.

The girl and I are near experts at the bumper cars. We only got two hits each.

What was really weird, though, was the following: we both got our last hit at the same time. She turned around just as I was about to get her, and ta-da! We tied. But that's not the point. After we collided, she kind of just kept on staring at me… as if in a trance. I studied her while she did that—she had this faraway look in her eyes, the type she gets when she's completely lost in thought.

Strangely enough, it didn't creep me out. The look she gave me kind of… I don't know. Lured me towards her gaze, I guess. It's hard to explain. The point is the bell rang in that moment, which seemed to snap her out of it.

It was really, really strange.

After that, things got kind of awkward. I wasn't angry at her, I was just annoyed. She was the one that made truce, and off she went avoiding me! It was kind of hypocritical. I can't stay angry at her for a long time, we all know that, so I didn't.

What did get me kind of pissed, though, was one of the carnies. He handed the kid her prize—her aim had won her a goldfish, which she named Goldie. The girl asked if we could get a ticket of sorts, so we could pick up the fish later. The carnie nodded at her profusely, trying to sneak a peek down her shirt.

I wanted to punch the guy.

The girl, thankfully, noticed this too. So she took the ticket, and we all got out of there before the guy tried anything else.

I'm not sure why I didn't punch him. I really should have. But, okay. The kid had taken hold of my hand—apparently, she found the guy kind of scary—and I wasn't about to let go of her.

Still. I should've punched him.

After that, the girl seemed to make another one of her famous decisions, and so things reverted back to how they were after the truce. Nice. Comfortable.

We had fun. We took the kid onto the Ferris wheel, and then to get her face painted. While we were at it, I convinced one of the girls at the kiosk to do something a bit… different, to the girl. It didn't take much to convince her. She kind of reminded me of the skank.

Basically, the girl came out looking… well, hot. She didn't look like a clown gone wrong, like the skank. Thankfully. She was, however, wearing heavy makeup. It made her look good… I suppose, but she didn't look like herself. I kind of regretted telling the girl at the kiosk to mess with her face.

Still, the look on the girl's face was totally worth it.

The kid then came out, covered in glitter, sparkles, and pink face paint, announcing that she was tired. The girl promptly suggested she get up on my shoulders. Joy.

The kid wasn't heavy or anything but, geez, she could've tugged a little less on my hair. My scalp still hurts a little bit.

The advantage to carrying the kid were the compliments. Even though it was technically the kid who was complimenting me, the girl was the one _translating_ the compliments.

She complimented me on my height a lot.

After that, my luck kind of ran out. We arrived at the 'Hammer Master', I think it was called. It's that game where you slam a hammer down onto the metal plate to make the meter go high up—aiming to hit the bell, of course.

No one ever hits the bell.

In short, the girl thought I could only make it quarter way to the top. I said halfway. The kid voted all the way to the top. (Ah, kid naivety…)

The girl and I settled into a bet. She thought that there was no way whatsoever that I could make it halfway. So, according to her, if I didn't make it halfway to the top, she would snap a picture of me playing the My Little Pony game with the kid, and upload it to the internet.

That'd be a real treat for you guys, wouldn't it?

If I _did_ make it halfway, though, she'd have to pay the price of misjudging me.

Now, I don't know where I got the guts to actually say this. I didn't know it then, and I'm just as clueless now.

My terms: if I hit the halfway mark, she had to kiss me.

I'm staring at the sentence I just typed. I still can't believe I did that.

Actually, I've been berating myself for saying that for the past couple hours. Thanks to my little stunt, things between us are exactly was they were a week ago.

Do you guys think I'm stupid by nature? I'm starting to think I am.

Anyhow. I _did_ hit the halfway mark. (And my arms _still _hurt because of it. The impact with the metal plate echoed through my arm, all the way up to my shoulders.) I won this really big, white teddy bear. Although at first I thought of giving it to the kid, I gave it to the girl for some reason. Smart on my part, I know.

By then, however, I already knew I'd blown it. Big time. So I settled for kissing her cheek, though I'm positive we both knew that was not what I meant. But, you know the saying, you get what you get.

I got a blank look.

After that, we wandered around a little bit. She kept her distance, I didn't press on the matter. I doubt the kid didn't notice anything—she's way too smart for that—but, even if she did, she didn't let it show. We picked up the goldfish, watched the fireworks, and the then left because the kid fell asleep.

It was an… eventful day, I guess. Interesting.

Tomorrow will probably be a long day. And the next day, too. And the day after that. And so on until Sunday. Which, by the way, did I mention Sunday is the girl's birthday? Yeah. I forgot.

We'll see how that goes.

Fly on,

-Nick.

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TAGS: _the girl; the skank; the sister; the kid; carnival; Home Eco; Project: Family; day two_

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*Nick does not use real people's names in his blog posts without express permission from said people. These names may be aliases chosen by said people. Please don't waste your time trying to 'sue' Nick in the comments section. It gets annoying after a while. Thank-you.*

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**AN:**

**So...? Yay or Nay?**

**Thanks for the reviews, guys. Although the review count is still depressing, last chapter was an improvement. I feel pretty bad saying that, but hey. WiH has PF's standards to live up to. You can't really blame me.**

**Edited Ch.4 of PF (which I'll upload in about two minutes) is _quite_ different and, in my opinion, _quite _better. Check it out? Leave a review? The story itself has a smoother feel to it. I like it better edited.**

**Thanks for reading! Drop a review? **

**-DemiSpy.**


	5. Day 3

**Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own anything I don't own. Like MR.**

**Claimer: I own everything else. Mainly my plot.**

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**Welcome to Nick's Blog!**

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You are visitor number: I'm working on it! Sheesh!

_Wednesday, October 28._

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New Blog Post: Day 3

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Sometimes I wonder whose side you people are on. You seem to pity the girl quite a lot. What about me, eh?

Of course, those of you who tend to cuss her out… watch it.

Anyhow. Today was somewhat uneventful, at least compared to yesterday. The kid woke up relatively late, seeing as she's usually an early riser, so I was already up and dressed when she came into the living room.

She gestured to the kitchen, then back at me with a curious look. Thankful for Google Translator, I explained I wanted to go out for breakfast today. She took a minute to actually decipher what I meant, though (Google Translator isn't all that great with actual phrases and not just words, you know?), but then nodded.

Seeing as she doesn't exactly excel at typing (or typing with correct spelling and grammar), Google Translator wasn't much of an option for her. We struggled for a few minutes with sign language, until I finally understood that she wanted to know where I was going to take her.

"IHOP," I said simply.

She just stared at me for a minute. Clearly, she'd never been to IHOP. I don't think she'd ever even heard of it, seeing as she took a full minute to actually pronounce it somewhat correctly.

After that ordeal was over, the kid set her things down at her usual spot on the dining table, and set off to work on her coloring book. At some point, she beckoned me over. Lo and behold, a few minutes later, I was the one coloring. Beware the Bambi eyes, people. Beware.

The girl came into the room about twenty minutes later, looking pretty tired. I explained I was thinking about going to IHOP (she agreed with quite some enthusiasm) and so we were off.

Things at IHOP were fine. I spent the whole morning worrying that the girl would blow up on me at some point, but no. She even relented to translating some sort of three-way conversation between us all, for ten minutes.

I think it was the most productive conversation I've had with the kid. Google Translator can only do so much.

After IHOP, the kid didn't want to go back to the apartment just yet, so the girl suggested the movies. She knew this theater that showed movies in Spanish (and Portuguese), not very far. I wasn't all that happy about it at first (what was I supposed to do the whole time?) but then the girl reminded me that I wouldn't have actually _watched _the movie anyway, considering it'd be the kid's choice.

She had a point.

Much to my amusement, the girl was the one who had to suffer through the movie (which turned out to be _Tangled_).

Once we finally went back to the apartment, I fixed up some pasta. We ate in relative peace, and I was finally breathing a sigh of relief, thinking that last night hadn't changed anything for the worse.

Of course, I freaking jinxed it.

After we ate, the girl (uncharacteristically) volunteered to help with the dishes. I was kind of confused until I noticed the kid eyeing the Wii, and the somewhat panicked look on the girl's face. Major "Oh…" moment.

At some point while we were doing the dishes, I accidentally flicked some soap onto the girl. I said sorry like the gentleman I am, but she didn't think that was enough of an apology. She splattered my shirt with soap—a little more than would've been necessary, in all honesty.

I rolled my eyes and muttered "Hey!" but then turned back to dishwashing. The girl rolled her eyes and turned back to drying, completely unaware of my filling up a glass with water (which I was supposed to be rinsing, actually). I flicked the glass's contents onto her, and so the war began.

Once our war was done, and we were just holding onto the counter and laughing like a pair of madmen, the girl slipped and fell straight towards me.

It all vaguely reminded me of the ice cream incident on Monday.

Anyhow, I didn't get as far as I did on Monday, though, seeing as she quickly retracted herself from me and said she was going to take a shower. After she was gone, I decided I was quite soapy too, so I just passed a towel across the counter so water would stop spilling, and then I made my way to the bathroom. (My _own_, _personal_ bathroom, for those sick-minded people out there. You're all getting on my nerves.)

After I showered and got dressed, I went to look for a mop. Surprisingly, there was not one mop in the entire apartment, so I resolved to go look for a janitor's closet somewhere in the building and… err, _borrow_ one. I'd put it back later, you know.

I first went to tell the girl where I was going (just in case she went bonkers over my disappearance—I'm not into self-inflicted pain, you know), and just as I was about to knock, she opened the door.

There was an awkward moment in which she laughed nervously and I just stood there like an idiot, but once I got my point across (about the janitor's closet thing) I turned around and walked straight out of the apartment.

When I got back, the girl had already cleaned up the countertop and finished the dishes, leaving the mopping for me. Once I was done with that, the kid announced that she was tired (she had stayed up late because of the carnival… and she _had _spent all afternoon glued to the living room TV—I have a major Wii addict in the midst) so I nodded, bid her goodnight, and then made my way to my room.

So now I'm typing up this post and—wait. Hold up a second.

Yeah, okay, I'm back now. The girl just came in—she's the one in charge of the expense report for the project, and she wanted the receipts. I'd left my wallet in the living room earlier, so I went to get it. She just left my room—thankfully, I minimized the window so even if she peeked at the computer, I doubt she found this.

Anyhow. As I was saying. Now I'm typing up this blog post, and seeing it still is pretty early, it seems to be I have a rather boring evening ahead of me.

Overall, what do you people think? Is my week so far living up to your standards? Things are interesting, to say the least. Hopefully, both the girl and I will meet Sunday night alive and well.

Meh. Hopefully.

Fly on,

-Nick.

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TAGS: _ice-cream incident_; _the girl; the skank; the sister; the kid; Home Eco; Project: Family; PF-Day 1._

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*Nick does not use real people's names in his blog posts without express permission from said people. These names may be aliases chosen by said people. Please don't waste your time trying to 'sue' Nick in the comments section. It gets annoying after a while. Thank-you.*

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**AN: **

**Like? Dislike? You know, sometimes I wonder if FF could have a like button (think Facebook). It'd give us authors a little bit of happiness when we're lacking reviews.**

**Speaking of reviews, our numbers went up last chapter! Yay! Let's try to keep it up, yeah? This story is now halfway done-let's make sure it ends up nicely. **

**I know the chapters are short, but trust me when I say I'm working a lot on this. PF is _also _being edited (practically rewritten, actually) so that has to count. And I like how this story is going.**

**And with that thought in mind-review? :)**

**Thanks for reading, and I'll see you around Saturday!**

**-DemiSpy.**


	6. Day 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own MR, Build-A-Bear Workshop, or just about anything else you may recognize.**

**Claimer: I won everything else. Especially my plot.**

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**Welcome to Nick's Blog!**

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You are visitor number: I'm working on it! Sheesh!

_Thursday, October 29._

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New Blog Post: Day 4

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Yo.

The comments don't usually annoy me this much. But som of you are _really_ getting on my nerves. Get your freaking minds out of the freaking gutter. Okay? Okay.

Today wasn't exactly uneventful, though it was a relatively calm day. Relatively, of course.

First off, we went to the mall. I wasn't too happy about it, but hey. Watching the look on the girl's face while we were there was totally worth it.

She _despises_ malls.

We walked around the mall for a while. The kid was really, really excited about the whole thing, and she looked as if she were on caffeine or something. Maybechocolate.

Point is, she pointed and laughed and talked and… well, she talked a lot. I didn't understand much of it, but that's not the point.

People were actually staring. They would go all 'aww…' the moment they saw the kid, pointing and stuff. I think at some point, some guy with a camera came up to us and asked if Angel could pose for a picture of the store she'd been pointing at.

We didn't let anyone take a single picture, mind you.

Every single shop seemed to hold something of interest for the kid. It was either the shop logo, the design of the walls, the mannequins' poses… and, of course, the items on sale themselves.

Something I found quite funny was the following: the kid liked dress shops. A lot. Up to a certain extent, this was perfectly fine by both the girl and me.

The girl's problem was that the dresses were actually supposed to be for _her_.

Again, I don't think I had much of a problem with that.

The girl never did buy a dress, but later on the kid talked her into buying herself a skirt. I noticed she didn't buy it her size—it was way, way too small to be her size—so I just raised my eyebrows and shook my head at her disapprovingly. I'm pretty sure she was going to give it to her sister or something. Shame on her, right?

Meh. She just rolled her eyes and headed for the cashier.

We wandered around the mall for a while, going into random stores here and there. The problem came when the kid spotted it… Build-A-Bear Workshop.

I cannot believe I just typed that. The name of the place on its own gives me the creeps.

Think about it. There's all these _unstuffed_ plush animals just lined on the shelves and in little crates… their _unstuffed_-ness making their beady eyes stand out as if they're staring at you…

C'mon. Don't tell me you've never thought of it that way.

When the kid suggested we go inside, the girl wasn't thrilled. Neither was I, honestly, but again, I couldn't just pass up the look on the girl's face. I just made sure to ignore the beady eyes of the _unstuffed_ animals staring at me.

The girl eventually got fed up with the place, so she began muttering to herself stuff like "I'm doing this for a grade…"

I rolled my eyes and promptly called her a drama queen.

Let me quote her response: "That's her friend's job. I'm just filling in for him during his absence."

You know which friend I'm talking about. The one that, supposedly, was over the girl. Meh. As if.

Although the conversation about her friend kind of peeved me, the girl changed the topic almost immediately. She said she was going to miss the kid, after the week was over.

I hated to admit that she had a point, so instead I told her not to think about it. The atmosphere seemed to take up a rather serious mood, compared to our earlier conversation. Girls. When will I ever understand how their minds work?

Soon after that conversation, the kid proudly walked up to us with her now stuffed (and dressed) bear, Celeste. It was a white bear, dressed in blue. Lots of blue.

The funny thing about Celeste was that, when Max went off to pay for it, the cashier stared at her, then at the kid, then back at her, and then at me. The girl at the register promptly asked the girl if the kid was hers. And, consequently, if she was mine.

Although I did quirk an eyebrow at the lady, the girl was the one that blew up on her. I think it was a bit too harsh, but… well, the girl has a temper. Let's leave it at that.

After scaring the daylights out of the girl at the cash register, we got a discount and a profuse apology from the store manager. The girl was seething, though I noticed the cocky look she sent the cashier's way.

I called her a drama queen. Again.

After the fiasco at Build-A-Bear was over, and the girl had stopped glaring at everything in sight, we bought some stuff for the kid (clothes, coloring pencils, that sort of thing), and then made our way to the food court.

Once we got our food and sat down at a table, the girl and I got into an… interesting discussion.

See, according to her, Chinese food is better. I just rolled my eyes and told her that I preferred sushi. She looked dumbstruck.

Thankfully, the kid was in neutral territory—she ate Italian—so she couldn't help either of us during the discussion. It was better she stayed uninvolved.

After we ate, we went to get dessert. We first stopped by Ben & Jerry's, where the kid got a vanilla scoop covered in chocolate fudge. It was kind of obvious that, internally, the girl and I were going down memory lane.

Anyhow. After that, we went to Starbucks, where the girl got a chocolate chip cookie. I found it odd that she'd go all the way to Starbucks for a cookie (Ben & Jerry's had a bunch for sale, too), but then she explained the B3CS.

The Best Chocolate-Chip-Cookie Search.

Apparently, she was on some sort of mission to find the best chocolate chip cookie out there. So far, only Starbucks came moderately close to the quality of her mom's cookies.

She had a point. Her mother's cookies were freaking awesome.

A few minutes after she finished explaining the B3CS, the girl asked what I would get for dessert. I said I'd pass, to which the girl stopped in her tracks and stared. And stared.

In her opinion, my not wanting dessert was just about as blasphemous as preferring sushi over Chinese food in general. Who would've thought?

We finally left the mall after that. Seeing as the girl felt kind of worn out, the kid and I resolved to play charades instead of using the girl to translate.

When was the last time you played charades in a mall's parking lot, anyway?

When we got back to the apartment, I headed straight for my room. I was about to start up on this post, but then remembered I'd left my charger in the living room yesterday, so I went to get it.

To quote… err… whoever said this*: _It is a truth universally acknowledged that_… the low battery symbol on your computer is the only thing that'll make you stand up from a comfortable spot.

Where does that quote even come from? I hear about it all the time… hmm, that's something to look up. Later.

Anyhow. After I retrieved my charger from the living room, avoiding the 'argument' breaking out between the kid and the girl (the kid wanted to play My Little Pony with the girl, you see), I walked back to my room only to realize that both girls had invaded it. How they got from the living room to _my_ room in a matter of seconds (and without me noticing) will forever remain a mystery to me.

Anyhow. After I supposedly scared the daylights out of the girl (I snuck up on her. Big deal. As if I hadn't done that before), I was lured into the trap of the pink game.

The girl promptly excused herself, wanting to go work on the expense report. That evil, evil woman.

Now, read closely. I'm about to tell you something major that happened while playing My Little Pony. I'm still completely awestruck.

See, the kid can speak English.

She didn't explain why she'd kept this from us—she said she didn't want to talk about it—but the point is she is perfectly fluent in the language. She still has an off accent here and there, but I understood her every word.

She confessed this because she was tired of the failure that is Google Translator, and she wanted to be able talk to me, too.

Flattered as I was, I couldn't quite form a coherent sentence. Here's more or less how it all went down:

"_Fang… are you in there somewhere?" _

_I stared at the __kid__ for several moments longer than I had to. "This is weird."_

I know, I know. Smart words and all that. Anyhow. We were safe to talk because the girl had her door closed, and I knew she wouldn't hear anything. The first thing I did was persuade the kid to change the game. She relented, but with one condition.

I didn't quite process what her condition was, something about a question. I was too busy rushing to switch the game.

After we had settled to play Mario Bros., the kid claimed her condition. So she _did_, in fact, want to ask me a question. And what a terrible question it turned out to be.

"_Why is the __girl__ mad at you sometimes?"_

As you can see, I had not been expecting that. I knew what she meant with her question, of course, and I was not comfortable with it.

I wasn't just going to ignore her or anything, so I resolved to say this: _"We've had our fair share of rough experiences._"

The kid actually laughed. _"She said something like that, too. You're both just really… the __girl__ used a certain word… evasive, I think._"

In the end, the kid did get an explanation out of me. You blog readers have heard (read) the story before, so I'll keep it short.

Girl and I were best friends. Incident. Girl ignores me. Project.

After I finished explaining all of this to the kid, and made it clear that I have _no _idea what I did wrong, she kind of just stared at me for a while before turning back to the game.

The awkward silence lasted for a total of five seconds, until the kid decided to switch on her competitive side. Playing Mario Bros. with her is fun, I'll give you that much.

The girl came into the living room a while later. Her hair was everywhere, and the look in her eyes was of pure annoyance. She made it clear that she doesn't like numbers anymore that I do—she just knows how to work with them better.

She remarked on how "those numbers would be the death of her", and that was when I pretty much said the dumbest remark I've said all week.

I compared her annoyance at the expense report with her alarm clock. You know, the one I gave her? Well, she was more concerned about the fact that I still remembered it, rather than the fact that she still had it.

Yes. You read correctly. She still has it.

She quickly changed the topic and said she was going to take a nap.

I continued playing with the kid for a while, we talked about random things and I asked her how she liked the week so far ("I LOVE IT!"—direct quotes. And, yes. All caps was necessary), et cetera. Later on I sent her to wake the girl up for dinner, and after dinner we all parted ways to our respective bedrooms.

So that was my day, and here I am now. Today went by without incident (sans the clock thing, but I want to think that was a minor detail), so I'd like to hope that tomorrow will be better.

Knowing my luck, though, it'll be anything but.

Fly on,

-Nick.

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TAGS: _ice-cream incident_; _the girl; the skank; the sister; the kid; Home Eco; Project: Family; PF-Day 1._

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*Nick does not use real people's names in his blog posts without express permission from said people. These names may be aliases chosen by said people. Please don't waste your time trying to 'sue' Nick in the comments section. It gets annoying after a while. Thank-you.*

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**AN:**

***I've been in a bit of a Jane Austen mood this past week. I just **_**had**_** to find some way to include this. Heh. **

**How'd it go? The review count dropped a little bit last chapter, but thanks to those that reviewed, anyway. I'll stop asking for reviews now—I deserve it, after taking so long to post this story. Sad.**

**Anyhow, we have only four chapters left… gosh, that's sad. I'm thinking of a little surprise for you guys in the last chapter (or maybe I'll add an extra one?). I'm still thinking that over, though, but whatever.**

**I might take a little longer to update the next chapter, because this week has the word HECTIC written all over it. Gah. Wish me luck and all that :P**

**See ya!**

**-DemiSpy.**

**PS. Check out PF? Edited chapter six is now up!**


	7. Day 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to James Patterson. I also don't own any brand you recognize.**

**Claimer: I own my plot. I own my writing.**

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**Welcome to Nick's Blog!**

You are visitor number: Err… still working on it.

_Friday, October 30._

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New Blog Post: Day 5

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Yo.

Today was eventful. We (that is, the girl, the kid, and myself) started the day off with a revelation—yes, the girl now knows the kid speaks English. Followed up with an argument (performed by the girland yours truly) over the kitchen tap and our little issue. Next up we have a freak attack by the world's largest tarantula, and me being shunned away from an elevator.

But let's take it step by step.

The girl walked in on me and the kid talking (in English) this morning. She was still in her PJs and morning hair, and she wasn't even half-awake. Let's leave it at quarter-awake. She then proceeded to gape, then stare, and then ask a few questions. We cleared up the issue, and all is well now between the girl and the kid—the kid seriously worried over whether the girl would be mad or not.

What's interesting—and depressing—was the story. The question that simply couldn't be avoided (Why don't you speak English? Why such a big secret?) was obviously not avoided. The girl asked, the kid answered, and let me tell you—we did _not_ expect the answer. At least, I didn't.

It's something personal for the kid, so I won't go into detail about it. Plus, I'm starting to worry that someone from the orphanage will find these posts and her secret will be out. That'd be bad. I'll only tell you that she really impressed both me and the girl. Maybe little kids are deeper thinkers than we give them credit for.

She is officially speaking in English around us, though, so the girl is having a blast. No more translating duty for her!

Moving on. We had breakfast and, surprisingly, the girl volunteered to help with the dishes afterwards. I blew it, of course. We were getting along nicely, and then I opened my mouth.

It happened sort of like this. We were laughing, and I thought that it was weird how we were always so tense around each other. Couldn't we just laugh like this all the time? True, I'm not much of a laugher but… well, laughing around her is different. And that's as mushy as I get, so quit your cooing, ladies.

So our laughing died down eventually and we continued doing dishes, and that was when I decided to open up my damned mouth: _"Why do you avoid me so much?"_

At the time I was genuinely curious , and it was until the words were out that I realized what I'd just said. She tried to avoid the topic—giving me an excellent opening to do so while at it—, and still I took the stubborn approach. I convinced myself that I _needed_ to say this, to hear her side of it. I had to.

We argued. Cryptic as ever, she didn't give me the answer I wanted. She said, and I quote: "You decided I wasn't good enough." And then: "We both changed, but you started it. I just tagged along."

I do not know how to translate that into English. Girls, care to help a guy? If you know how to translate that from your language to English, please do so in the comments. That's as close to an answer as I've gotten in that past two months.

Now, I want to say that was the end of it, but it wasn't. I blew up right then. I just… I'm so tired of trailing behind her, begging for answers. I guess I'm really not over her, I admit it. But I need to know what I did. I can't do this anymore—if she won't tell me, then fine, I'll leave her be.

I sadly said something like that out loud—I was already seething, please understand—which landed me in my current predicament. I made it worse later on, but I'll talk about that in a minute. The point is, I said: "Quit being so damn cryptic, and tell me what the hell I did, what I started."

And that, gentlemen, is how you mess up. Big time.

[By the way, I said we fought over the tap. See, as we argued and retorted, we took turns turning the tap on (her) and off (me).]

This time, I walked out on her. I locked myself into my room and banged my head against the wall a couple of time. I responded to some of your comments.

She took up the same tactic and locked herself into her room for the rest of the afternoon. Where was the kid during all of this? Taking a shower. When she came out, she noticed both doors locked and, to my surprise, she chose to knock on mine first.

I felt bad about how our argument was affecting the kid, so I let her torture me with that dreaded Wii game—I'm banning My Little Pony from the country someday.

I made lunch after that, and sent the kid to ask the girl if she wanted to eat. The girl said no thanks.

The kid and I ate while playing Wii—fun, yet difficult. She'd relented to playing Mario Bros. by then, thankfully.

A while later, the kid got worried about the girl, and it was then when she questioned me about what'd happened. And I explained.

Getting advice from a seven-year-old just borders on desperate, but that was me at the time. The kid actually came up with an idea—a brilliant idea—to get the girl to talk to me for once, really talk to me. I won't talk about it here, as a precaution, but I'll talk about it once I've carried it out. Sounds fair? No? Too bad.

The kid really got worried after that, so she went off to remind the girl that she _had_ to eat. The girl walked out of her room ten minutes later. She went into the kitchen—I heard her rummage around the pantry—and then she walked back into her room.

I was starting to get annoyed. The girl I knew didn't hide from her problems, locked in her room doing… whatever she was doing. It wasn't until later, though, that I snapped. Not my smartest moment, but this time I can honestly say I was doing the right thing.

The kid told me she wanted to go to the park. I felt bad—we'd been cooped up in the apartment all day—so I told her that we could. She ran off to get the girl, excited. We both knew that the girl would only listen to her, so I didn't even bother trying to go tell her myself.

I gaped when the kid came back a moment later, head down. She said that the girl was doing homework, that she had a lot of stuff to do. The girl had, apparently, also said that we'd go to the park the next day.

I really did get angry then—the whole seeing red and not thinking straight shebang. I told the kid to get her sweater and to wait at the door, and then I stalked straight into the girl's room. She was hunched over a notebook, comfortably seated on her bed, surrounded by just about every textbook she owned. I said something right then, I can't remember what. Then I took her notebook and pushed her books away. With my free hand, I pulled her up.

I _can _remember what I said right then, though. I said, and I quote: "You are angry at me, not at The kid. You won't listen to me, but you'll listen to The kid. I expect you to be at the door in one minute, a smile plastered on your face. We're going to the park and you're going to like it, am I clear?"

I was so angry at her. She got mad, too, and said something about me treating her like a child. I told her to stop acting like a child. Then I told her to bring a sweater, and I walked out.

Guess what? She came alright but… yeah, she didn't bring a sweater. Ever the rebellious type.

Once we were at the park, though, I started to feel bad. I knew things weren't easy for her, either. We were both at fault (or so she led me to believe) in this, and I had crossed a line back there. It wasn't fair of her to bring the kid into this, but still.

At any rate, I was about to say something—maybe an apology, I'm not sure—but then the girl interrupted me. She pointed to a couple standing at the end of the park—the only other people there besides us, the kid, and another little girl that had taken to playing with the kid on the jungle gym—and she started to ask me if they weren't familiar or something. See, she got cut off by a loud, high-pitched squeal that vaguely sounded like my name.

I can honestly say that I flinched. I know those squeals. They haunt my nightmares.

To anyone who guessed it was the skank, well, I'd give you a million-dollar prize, but I'm broke. Anne's the one with the money in the family. Sorry.

So we ran into the skank and her partner, blondie. Blondie is the guy crushing on the girl—not her friend, the other guy. The jerk.

So, to my annoyance, the skank decided I was up for a conversation. Blondie decided the girl was up for a conversation. Is there any free will left in this country?

Anyhow. I tuned the skank out and immersed myself in my own thoughts, occasionally nodding. I thought a lot about my argument with the girl that morning—trying to locate some sort of clue. I took every word she said apart, trying to figure out what she meant.

I knew I'd done something. The only hint she really gave as to what I did was: "You decided I wasn't good enough." What did that mean, anyway? Good enough for what? And how the hell did I decide? I didn't say anything, so she definitely inferred it from something I did (she does that a lot), but thus we return to the question: _what did I do?_

Do you realize how much stress I've been carrying for two months?

As I pondered that last thought, I was brutally assaulted by none other than the skank. First she locked her arms around my neck with that vice-like grip of hers. Alarms began to go off in my head. I pushed her off but she wouldn't let go, so I faced her with a glare.

Too late, though, 'cause the moment I met her (pretty scary) gaze, she lunged and, not only did she kiss me, she also bumped foreheads with me. That really hurt. She has a thick skull.

I tried pushing her off again, but then I heard the scream. I went still for a moment as it registered in my head that it'd been the kid who screamed. She screamed again, and this time I really did push the skank off. She landed on the ground with a thud (not my intention, but she brought it upon herself), and that was when I saw it. The girl kicked the biggest spider I'd ever seen away from its spot beneath the kid (who was dangling from the monkey bars by only a couple fingers).

The tarantula (I realized it wasn't a spider a moment later) started to run back after the girl, this time faster, so I went on and kicked it too. Then I told the girl to run. I kicked the thing once again for good measure (not very smart, I know), and then I ran after the girl. She'd taken the kid with her, and the skank, her partner, and her kid were already at the apartment building.

I'm still not sure what to think about what happened. It was sudden, and freaky, but in some stupid way I'm thankful for it—it did save me from the skank's clutches. And we all came out unscathed.

Well, no, scratch that last bit. I think the kid is traumatized—and I feel bad about it because, in some indirect way, we wouldn't have gone if I hadn't pressure the girl into going. Also, and this is a big issue for me, the girl is very angry. Seething, in fact.

When I got back to the apartment building, she was in an elevator with the skank and her partner, the kid, and the other kid. The elevator doors were closing already and, even though the skank tried to keep them open for me (blondie pulled her back for me), the girl let them close, glaring at me the entire time.

And so a little question mark popped into my head, but this one I solved easily. She'd seen the skank manhandling (womanhandling?) me. Perfect. Just perfect.

I took another elevator. I arrived at the apartment first (she probably had to stop at the skank's floor, which bought me some time) but even though I was standing at the door, waiting, she walked past me without so much as a glance. I knew she'd do that. I waited outside the kid's door, but she never came out. Maybe she knew I was standing there? I went into my room for a few minutes and waited, but the door didn't open.

I checked on her a while ago. The door to the kid's room was locked, but the girl's wasn't. A door connected both rooms, so I went through that one instead. Smart, right?

The girl fell asleep on the kid's bed. How both girls managed to fall asleep there (and in such a short timespan) I had no clue. For a moment I pondered carrying the girl to her room, but decided against it. Who knew what she'd do if she realized it. Plus, there was the possibility that she was feigning sleep, but I discarded that one pretty easily. She snored briefly (but don't tell her I noticed).

Instead, I pulled her shoes off and sort of tucked her in. What startled me a little was that, when I pulled the covers atop of her, I noticed some moonlight falling onto her face, and something was shining on it.

The girl doesn't cry. She just… doesn't. It's not her. It was only one tear, but let me tell you, it's something you see every thousand years. Or, at least, something _I_ see every thousand years.

I realized I don't know a lot of things about her, right there, in that moment. I didn't know she could cry, as stupid as that sounds. And I felt even worse for everything I'd said to her that day. I refuse to think that tear is my fault. The nagging thought is there, of course, but I will not pay attention to it. I will not. Brain, shut down.

Anyhow. I wiped the tear off with a finger, and then walked out of the room. Now I'm sitting here, on my bed, typing these last few sentences before I post this. Nothing besides what I'm typing is crossing my head—I really, honestly can't think.

And, thusly, I don't know what to think. About anything.

Fly on,

-Nick.

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TAGS: _freaky spider_; _argument; the __girl__; the __skank__; that guy; the __kid__; Home Eco; Project: Family; PF-Day 5_

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*Nick does not use real people's names in his blog posts without express permission from said people. These names may be aliases chosen by said people. Please don't waste your time trying to 'sue' Nick in the comments section. It gets annoying after a while. Thank-you.*

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**AN:**

**I'm not even going to talk about the review count, 'cause I don't deserve a single one. Talk about an unexpected hiatus! The truth is that life got complicated.**

**The edited chapter of PF for this post is up and ready, and I've got to say I feel proud of it. It came out... different. And that's a good thing, because that one might've been the worst I've edited so far. Ouch.**

**Hope you still care about this story, but won't blame you if you don't,**

**-DemiSpy.**


	8. Day 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything James Patterson owns, nor do I own any brand you recognize.**

**Claimer: I own my plot and my writing.**

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**Welcome to Nick's Blog!**

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You are visitor number: Ig might've found a way to fix it… will get back to you guys on that.

_Saturday, October 31._

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New Blog Post: Day 6

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Yo.

Today was plain weird. I'm not particularly sure how to start this post, seeing as I'm still in a bit of a shock from recent events, but here goes my best try:

Bear in mind that my brain is… funky right now. It's this big pile of thoughts running through like drunkards on crack. My metaphor will make sense by the end of this post.

So we started out… how did we start out? Oh, right. I woke up moderately early, at 8:30 am. I took a shower, which woke the kid up. Though I did apologize for that, waking her up was a good thing—I didn't have to literally wake her up to tell her I was going out.

See, it was all part of that plan I told you about yesterday. The kid is helping me get a few points in my favor with the girl, which sounds kind of pathetic if you think about it. I've had to recur to a six-year-old for help. A _smart _six-year-old, at any rate.

To make up for waking the kid up, I made her breakfast. I also left a plate for the girl, just in case she woke up before I got back—no way would I trust her in the kitchen. Especially not in the morning (she is _not_ a morning person).

After that, I left the kid watching TV and went out. I did buy some stuff at the grocery store—our remarkably well-stocked pantry slowly emptied itself out in the past few days. After that, though, I headed out to buy some supplies for my—the kid's—plan.

By the way, yes. The kid and I did have a couple laughs at the idea—me going shopping _on my own volition_ isn't something you'd expect. So, unfortunately, you do have the right to laugh. So laugh. .

I got a phone call on the ride back. I should've been expecting it, for there was no way the sister would just leave me alone like that for the entire week. However, the motive of her call was entirely unexpected. The call went something like this:

"_Say, Nick, how's your week so far?_"

I immediately noticed something _very_ wrong with that sentence. "Cut to the chase, _. Your attempt at small talk disappoints me."

She made a _humph _sound that made me roll my eyes. "_I found something interesting this morning. Of course, I called my dear sister before even thinking of asking you, but her information seemed to… fit._" She paused. "_Tell me, Nick, do you really think my face is permanently stuck glaring? That I'm, what did you call it… dramatic?"_

For the experienced blog reader, you may be catching on now. I started to panic a little. I parked the car in front of the apartment building, and then I sat back, clutching the phone tightly between my fingers. "I don't follow," I said simply. No emotion in my voice. Nope.

"_You also seem to consider me _scary_. Thank-you, I'm flattered_." I really started to panic a little right then. Her next phrase confirmed it all, and I really did sink into my seat in that moment: "_What particularly caught my attention is your name. I didn't know you went by Nick, too. Your name is quite strange, of course, but Nick? I would've thought that you would've chosen a stranger pseudonym._"

I felt myself pale. "You cannot tell anyone about this."

"_Oh, I won't. You will, eventually. I'll just wait it out. In the meantime, though, my silence will come with a price._"

Didn't take a genius to figure that one out, huh? "What do you want, then? I can fix you up with Iggy."

She took her sweet time to answer, though I knew my last comment probably made her blush. Or flinch. "_Don't mess with my life, Nick. That's my business. Anyhow, what I want you to do is simple: Fix things with my sister, and consider your debt paid. Do not mess up. Do you understand?_"

She hung up on me after that. Because I know she'll read this post sooner or later, here's what I have to say to you, the sister: Our definition of _simple_ is very, very different.

That being said, for the sake of this blog's secrecy (and my reputation, of course) I'll do my best to comply. Hence my—the kid's—plan.

Now. Something that is worrying me is what the sister said: _I called my dear sister before even thinking of asking you_.

If the girl found out about the blog, I am dead meat. And so is the sister. (That's a warning, by the way.)

Let's move on to the rest of the day, though. I arrived at the apartment ten minutes after the sister hung up on me. The moment I closed the door behind me, both the girl and the kid froze. They'd been talking and, by the looks on their faces, the conversation hadn't gone over well. I didn't ask—I didn't actually get to ask, seeing as the girl turned around and walked straight into her room after a moment.

The kid, however, stared at her retreating figure until we both heard the door lock. She turned to look at me and shook her head, and so I knew not to ask. So I didn't.

Though I really, really wanted to ask.

She spent two full hours locked up, two hours which I used to store away everything I'd bought. I also showed the kid our plan supplies, all of which she enthusiastically approved of. I played Wii with her for a while, and when we both got hungry, I decided to work on food.

I wasn't in a cooking mood—I'd cooked too much over the past few days, more than I usually did in a month—so I took out a few microwavable pizzas I bought this morning. The kid helped me set the table, and then the real problem arose—the girl.

I took a bit of a split-second decision. I knocked on her door, and I was surprised to find it unlocked. Hadn't she locked it..? Anyhow. I stepped in. She was surprised to see me, obviously, but didn't comment. Our exchange went something like this:

"I know you're mad," I said. I think she snorted right then. "Just… put it aside for two more days. I give you the right to punch me on Monday, if you want to."

She took a moment to answer. "I…" She cleared her throat. "Yeah, okay."

And that was our truce.

During lunch, the kid dropped the bomb on me that we, apparently, would be going Trick or Treating that evening. The girl had already consented to it! That was a bit of a surprise to me, but no matter. We went to buy costumes after lunch, which turned out to be a slightly awkward event for both the girl and me, but we both came out unscathed.

Well, I did. See, the idea was to buy a costume for the kid and be done with it. But then the kid decided that the girl needed a costume as well. You should've seen the girl's face.

To be cooperative, I bought a pair of plastic fangs. The girl just glowered at me.

Now, I'll admit, I didn't like her costume very much. Not because it looked bad or anything, it's just that I didn't… err… appreciate, let's call it, the way the rest of the guys in the shop stared at her when she left the changing room. Of course, the kid was dead set on that one, and so I ended up paying for it—much to both mine and the girl's chagrin.

That night, we went Trick or Treating as planned. The kid ditched the Halloween-themed bucket she got at the costume shop, opting for a trash can instead. See, the girl's only condition was that we'd leave when either her bucket filled up or the clock hit nine pm.

The kid wasn't taking any chances.

Of course, the kid's bucket filled up _quite_ fast anyway. She was dressed as an angel, which made people all over coo at her. Some dude actually asked if she could model for something or other. I glared. He backed off.

Talk about efficiency.

Anyhow, the real problem with her looking so… cute, I guess, was that people gave her even _more _candy than normal. We only went through two blocks before candy started spilling over the edge of her trash can.

We actually ended up at my house. Iggy gave us the candy after some of his typical comments ("Wow, some disguise, Nick! Very elaborate!" and, of course: "Are you sure you're [the girl]?").

Everything was going nicely, in my opinion. The girl and I didn't talk much, but I was okay with that. She had yet to punch me. I was alive. All was well.

The problems started when we were heading back. Even though it was almost nine pm, it was pretty dark out. And the apartment building is in a rather secluded area, so the street lights were the only thing lighting the place.

We bumped into a bunch of early-evening drinkers. They stood right there on the sidewalk, leaning back on two cars. They were downing beer and vodka and who knows what else. One of them tried to get too close to the girl… he said some things I'd rather not repeat here, for the sake of my temper. In fact, I'll go through this quickly. I already calmed down, somewhat. No need to start back up.

Simply put, the girl took care of the kid while I fought them off—not that hard a task, considering most couldn't even stand up straight. I think there were about six of them, so that wasn't much of a challenge either. We left quickly after that, leaving a trail of candy spilling behind.

The kid was shaken up, so the girl put her to bed. She took a while, so I waited out in the hall for a few minutes. I have two bruises—one on my cheek and the other on my arm—and a few cuts on my arms, both of which I noticed while waiting. Not too bad, in my opinion. Not bad at all.

Once the girl came out, she was nice enough to fix my wounds. I would've expected at least a little blood, but no. I just had my puny purple bruises. Darn.

The girl gave me some ice and this funny smelling cream for those, and I think we had a small conversation right then—something about her being the doctor. Something about one of the kid's lollipops, too. Anyhow. The point is that, completely out of the blue, the girl stood up to leave. Before she walked off, though, she kissed my cheek.

I froze.

It took me a good ten minutes to stand up and realize what'd just happened, actually. Forgive me, girls, for being somewhat insensitive, but I'm honestly wondering if she's on her period. Talk about mood swings…

Anyhow. Now I'm sort of back to normal, though my brain is still a bit up a mashed up mess, and with this I finish today's post.

Tomorrow is the last day, the day the plan comes into effect. Wish me luck. This time, I really, truly think I'll be needing it.

Fly on,

-Nick.

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TAGS: _Halloween_; _mugged; the __girl__; the __kid__; Home Eco; Project: Family; PF-Day 6_

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*Nick does not use real people's names in his blog posts without express permission from said people. These names may be aliases chosen by said people. Please don't waste your time trying to 'sue' Nick in the comments section. It gets annoying after a while. Thank-you.*

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**AN:**

**I'm trying to make up for the hiatus. Thanks to everyone who reviewed—I really, really appreciate it. Oh, and to Flygrrl—thanks. I needed someone to kick my butt.**

**That being said, two chapters left! (One of which is the epilogue, for which I've something special planned.) **

**Can't promise a fast update, but I promise my best effort,**

**-DemiSpy.**

**PS. Review? **


	9. Day 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything James Patterson owns, nor any brand you recognize.**

**Claimer: I own everything else, such as my plot and my work in general.**

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**Welcome to Nick's Blog!**

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You are visitor number: Ig failed at finding a way to fix it, and I'd like to rub that in for a moment. Sadly, that means we still have to find a new counter thingy.

_Sunday, November 1._

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New Blog Post: Day 7

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Yo.

I carried out the plan today so, as promised, I can now tell you what it consisted of. Simply put, the kid and I organized a birthday party for the girl.

The first phase I carried out yesterday, actually. I didn't mention it in the last post because that'd kind of spoil the plan. As you know, I received a rather unexpected phone call from the sister yesterday. What I didn't mention was that, after the threat part of her phone call was over, I explained part of my plan to her. I needed a couple favors from her, which only left me further indebted to her.

Secrecy is an expensive thing, guys. Be wise when choosing who you're telling stuff to.

Essentially, I asked the sister to carry out the phone calls I simple couldn't and wouldn't do myself. She seems to like using her phone, anyway. In a way, you could say I did her a favor. Let's go with that, yes?

Anyhow. You already know that I left shopping yesterday (something I obviously don't do often). I went to buy the girl a gift, of course, and also to place an order on Chinese food. She loves the stuff about as much as she does cookies.

As final preparation (this was the kid's side of the deal, by the way) I went through a rather painful phone call with the skank, asking if she could let her kid come over for the afternoon to play with the kid. She readily agreed, of course, which kind of freaked me out. I was just glad she didn't put up any conditions—she probs regretted that later.

The sister called me this morning; she said that her part of the plan was set. That let me breathe a little. I got up at exactly nine am, knowing the girl would by no means rise before ten. Or eleven. I took a shower, made breakfast, and then woke the kid. By ten we had a note ready for the girl (along with breakfast—no food equals grumpy girl, and having her grumpy on her birthday is a seriously bad idea, FYI) and we were out of the apartment. I took the kid around town, got her some ice cream and just joked around. We had some fun.

She also helped calm me down a little. I couldn't believe I was doing all this. It freaked me out a little.

Ahem. Anyhow, called the sister at about eleven. She said the girl clearly wasn't up yet, because she hadn't answered neither her happy birthday text, nor the girl's best friend's. I found that a little worrying—either she was up and her phone had no battery (a perfectly plausible excuse)—or she was still asleep (also plausible, really).

The kid and I thus resolved to go to the mall and wander around for a while, having nothing else to do. It wasn't until around one pm when the sister finally called and said that the girl was speaking with her mother on the phone as we spoke. She'd already mobilized everyone else, so all we had to do was get to the apartment as fast as we could without the girl noticing.

The plan was that the girl would be looking for me and the kid at the park. She'd call her mom while there, who would distract her long enough for us to get into the apartment unnoticed.

We all managed to get into the apartment, say hello, and get ready about ten minutes before the girl strode in, which we used to carry out this idea of the sister's, which consisted of hiding the girl's gifts around the apartment and writing down clues for her to find them.

I had a bit of a light bulb moment right then, so while everyone rushed about to hide their gifts and find a pen, I slipped into the kitchen and looked for some things. Once my task was done, I took a pen and wrote my name on the reverse of my card, hid my gift, and handed the card to a skeptical sister.

Talk about a lack of faith.

The kid also asked me to jot down her clue for her, saying that it wouldn't fit with her handwriting. So I wrote down while she dictated. I finished just in time, too. See, the girl's guy friend's partner was in charge of listening by the door, so when she said she heard footsteps, the living room turned into a mad rush of people looking for a place to hide.

We had the lights off, the curtains drawn, and the apartment actually looked a little creepy. We managed to surprise her (a world record if you ask me) rather easily, which annoyed and astounded me considerably.

The guest list consisted of myself, the kid, the skank's kid, the sister, the girl, Iggy, the girl's two close friends (you know, _that _guy and this other girl I don't mention here a lot—I used to hang out with both before the incident), that guy's project partner, and his kid.

Everyone started to make small talk and whatnot. I ended up in a Mario Bros. match with the girl and Iggy for the most part. That went on for about two hours, until everyone agreed on food. You can imagine the girl's reaction (and I quote: "_finally!_").

We all sat down to each Chinese food. While I admit I was silent for the most part, I managed to engage in conversation with Iggy and with the sister (neither conversation turned out nicely for me, but that's beside the point). The girl's friend (girl) then brought up the topic on how the girl and I had managed a full seven days like this without, you know, killing each other.

The girl said, and I quote: "Miracles happen."

I wasn't sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment.

After that, the girl blew out her candle from a giant chocolate chip cookie (courtesy of the sister and her mother's baking, which rocks if I do say so myself). She kept about half the cookie, leaving the rest of us (read: _nine _people) to split the rest of it.

I found it kind of funny.

After that the girl went straight to her gifts. She went through each of our hastily made cards, one by one uncovering her gifts and laughing at the random hiding places. Here's a list of the order in which she got her gifts and where they were hidden:

The sister—makeup kit—CD with all her favorites songs burned onto it (it had a funny mariachi cover, probs an inside joke). Also, the sister gave the girl her gift from their mother, which were a pair of earrings. I didn't even know the girl had earring holes!

Guy friend and his partner—fridge—whipped cream (inside joke of theirs about a project) and a leather jacket

Iggy—my bathroom (he just wrote that on the card, no clue or anything, just _bathroom_)—stink bomb and new All Time Low CD

The kid—pantry, on top of the cookies—a drawing with a note on the back

The girl's other friend—the girl's nightstand, I think—new alarm clock (I actually got kind of mad about that…)

And then, of course, me. I hid it in the kitchen sink, and my clue was _bubbles_. I got creative, though, and wrote my note in invisible ink. In that split-second when I got the idea of doing that, I'd figured that, maybe, pulling the girl down memory lane early on would help the plan.

There was also a minuscule part of me that wanted to be cheesy and just do something different from the others. But ignore that, will you?

Anyway, my gift was a necklace with a wings-shaped pendant. Originally, I'd been looking to give her a CD or a new hoodie (she loves those things), but the necklace caught my eye when I passed the jewelry store this morning. I'm not sure why, but it made me think of her a little (excuse the gag-inducing fluff about all this, by the way). So I got her that and hoped she wouldn't kill me for giving her jewelry.

After the gifts everyone made small talk and overall just had some good laughs. Everyone was gone by seven, and the place was clean by eight. That was when the real part of the plan started.

We went through a conversation at a painfully slow speed. I remember the first parts of our conversation:

"_Thanks, really," she told me, gesturing to her necklace. "It's pretty."_

_For a moment I wondered how many times she'd said the word pretty in her life. Big deal, people, seriously. "You're welcome."_

"_Using invisible ink was… creative. You really made me think."_

_I chuckled. Creative? Okay, then. "I noticed," I said. I wondered if I had actually made her go down memory lane. After a few minutes of silence, I actually asked: "That day was kind of a while ago, wasn't it?"_

_She nodded. "Nearly three months."_

_I nodded. Bear in mind I didn't really think before saying this: "Feels like three years."_

After that, I asked her if that day had been when I messed up. I was taking a huge leap there, you know? She could just snap at me and everything would be ruined right then. But she did answer, and imagine my surprise when she said: "No."

The conversation sort of escalated in tension and risk from there on. I got to hear her side of the incident (after much probing and generally being pushy on my part) and she got to hear mine (which came out as a long rant I'm not particularly proud of, though I am happy I finally let it out).

To make a brief compare and contrast, this is my side of the incident, for those of you who need a reminder:

Friday—the girl and I met up at my house to work on a project that consisted of using invisible ink. I, for some stupid reason, thought it'd be a good idea to write _I think I love you_ on a notecard, and have her hold it under a lamp to see how invisible ink worked. She froze, I snuck up to her, she turned to look at me, a tense silence followed, and ka-boom. I kissed her, she kissed back, and then she ran out on me.

Weekened—tried to talk to her, she didn't budge.

Monday—tried to talk to her again. No response.

Tuesday and Wednesday—let her cool off and stayed out of the way.

Thursday—tried to talk to her once more. No response.

Friday—interesting day, that Friday. We had chemistry together that day. Before class, though, I was assaulted by the skank. She started to kiss me. I pushed her away, but she wouldn't let go. I let her kiss me in that moment for two reasons: A) I (shamefully and regrettably) wanted a girl to kiss me without running out on me afterwards. B) I wanted to see if the girl walked by on her way to class and saw us. I wanted her to push the skank off and scream at her and at me, just to show she cared.

Then the bell rang and the girl still wasn't there, so I pushed the skank off and yelled at her to leave me alone (did feel abd about it later, true, but at the time I was quite pissed). The girl wasn't in Chemistry, and I later found out from the sister that the girl had felt sick.

Weekend—tried to talk to the girl, but this time was pushed away by the sister (and verbally assaulted in the meantime). Then Iggy verbally assaulted me, followed by hate texts from the girl's two friends (both of which, at the time, had been my friends as well). Was rendered an asshole by most.

Next two months or so—hated by the girl for no apparent reason. She refused to talk to me and I eventually gave up on groveling.

Little over a week ago—project began and this little adventure ensued.

Now, this is the girl's side of it:

Friday—same old: invisible ink project, kiss, she ran out on me.

Weekened—avoided me to think things through.

Monday-Thursday—still thinking.

Friday—here's the interesting bit. She'd wanted to talk to me that day (she did go to school) and was hoping to approach me about it before Chemistry (oh, the irony). She did, effectively, see me kissing the skank, but she didn't butt in. I guess it didn't occur to me that she was kind of fragile that week. Seeing us sort of broke her a little and… well, she said she stared for a good three minutes before running out. She ran to her house and locked herself up the entire weekend. She told the sister all about it and the sister told Iggy and the girl's (at the time mine as well) friends about it.

You know, if you think about it, the sister was the one that started this whole boycott on me. As previously stated: she's scary.

Weekend—locked up.

Next two months—avoiding me.

Little over a week ago—worst day of her life (understandable).

Anyhow, the reasoning behind why the girl ran out on me and spent so much time thinking (and why she of all people broke down so easily) is the following: her dad left her and her sister and her mom when she was little, so she just doesn't trust guys. She's also kind of insecure, though that's something she'll never recognize on her own. I just know it.

Something she said that really, really marked me was this: "I just… I wanted to make sure you didn't leave me. So I… I left you first."

I've been hearing those words in my head for the past couple hours. I should've seen it, at least had a wild guess at it. I feel stupid.

After clearing all this up and going through several awkward silences, she finally kissed me and so far things have been going happily ever after for us both. And I'm still doing a little victory dance in my head.

Currently, I'm back in my house, in my room. I should be sleeping but I can't.

I have school tomorrow. The very thought of it is foreign. Unnatural.

We took the kid back to the orphanage an hour ago. We all cried. We're all down about it.

The girl and I promised to visit her at least every other day. The kid nodded. She looked so sad. I think we all knew it—it's not like we could just keep on visiting forever.

The whole thing had slipped my mind throughout the entire day. I wonder if the kid had been thinking about it. I feel bad in a sense—today, our last day with the kid… we spent it celebrating the girl. We spent it with other friends, not with the kid.

I feel rotten. I don't regret anything that happened today, but still. There's a rotten taste in my mouth. Bitter.

I know I won't get much sleep, but I need to try. Iggy hasn't pushed me too much about it all since I got home; I think he just realized how much weight tonight carries on me. I called the girl earlier—she's holding up okay. I think we're both having a bit of a bittersweet night. Things are great for us but… the kid made it all sort of special.

Things feel different right now. I wonder how it'll all be tomorrow.

Fly on,

-Nick.

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TAGS: _Girl__'s birthday_; _the plan; the __girl__; the __kid__; Home Eco; Project: Family; PF-Day 7; last day_

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*Nick does not use real people's names in his blog posts without express permission from said people. These names may be aliases chosen by said people. Please don't waste your time trying to 'sue' Nick in the comments section. It gets annoying after a while. Thank-you.*

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**AN:**

**In PF, I hadn't mentioned anything about taking Angel back to the orphanage, leaving the chapter at the happy ending with the kiss. I think adding it in made the entire story more realistic.**

**I also added it in to the edit of this chapter in PF. Just a little scene that makes a big difference. Interesting.**

**Thank-you for all the reviews. Excuse the time I took to get this one up—too much stress in too little time, what with admissions exams (whose idea was it to take those for **_**high school**_**?) and the TOEFL. I cannot believe I had to take that exam at age fourteen.**

**Epilogue up next and I'm done! Finally!**

**I'll post as soon as I can—school's out starting next Wednesday! Finally!**

**-DemiSpy.**

**P.S. Review? You know you want to…**


	10. 3 Weeks Later (Epilogue)

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything James Patterson owns, nor do I own anything you recognize.**

**Claimer: I own my plot and my work in general.**

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**Welcome to Nick's Blog!**

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You are visitor number: I think we're all starting to get annoyed.

_Wednesday, November 25_

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New Blog Post: Two weeks later…

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Hello.

The name's Max, though you guys know me as the girl. (Honestly, Nick is so original with the aliases.) Pleased to meet you. Some of you. Fangirls—get over yourselves.

Nick was writing up a post a few minutes ago, putting you guys all up to date and whatnot about what happened after the project ended. His posts have been rare and kind of spontaneous, I know. Not my fault—not entirely, anyway. Things started to settle down a few days ago, and today he decided to get you all out of suspense.

So he was writing his post when very suddenly and out of the blue, Iggy calls and says he's needed at his house. Personally, I think he and Gazzy may have let a bomb blow where it shouldn't have.

At any rate, Nick's gone and his laptop is still here (my house), so I took up the task of writing his post for him, being the awesome girlfriend that I am.

No, I am not using this post to mark territory or any stupid thing like that. Those are the sister's words, not mine. (Speaking of the sister, she did not give us permission for us to use her name here. That's paranoia speaking, I tell you.)

Anyhow, to put you all up to date, I checked over the comments and will now answer some of your most pressing questions—seriously, guys, you're pushy!

First off, as previously mentioned, yes. Nick and I did get together. And I am very happy where I am, thank-you very much. My spot will not be available anytime soon, if ever. Deal with it and move on.

Second, the kid, whose name I _am_ allowed to divulge, but won't because of my own paranoia, is now my adopted sister. That was a bit of a surprise that came to both me and Nick on Monday. We dealt with a few conflicting situations in the past three weeks concerning the kid, but all's good now.

My dad adopted the kid as a sign that he wants to patch things up between us. I don't know if Nick has talked about it here, but the point is that he abandoned me, my sister and my mom when I was two. He came back this summer and until Monday I hadn't so much as spared a glance at him, so to speak.

That's the brief version of it, anyway.

So the kid is now my adopted sister. Ironically enough, her friend from the orphanage (I think Nick called her _the other kid_ in the post from my birthday) was adopted by my neighbors. Life can be nice sometimes, I guess.

Next off: the skank and blondie (Nick's aliases rule, seriously) are now avoiding each other like crazy, and they both avoid me and Nick as well. The distance is doing wonders for us all.

Nick and I scored an A+ on the project—grading consisted of an interview with the kid, so one could say we owe our grade to her.

So far, our Home Eco. classmates have carried out a total of seven adoptions (including Nick and me), so you could say that it hasn't only been us missing the kid.

What else, what else… Nick patched things up with both my friends (again, check out the birthday post, because neither of them have a given alias), meaning that our little group of friends is finally looking up. Everything overall is starting to look up.

I'm going to go a bit poetic here, the way Nick sometimes likes to do in his posts: something I thought of a lot during the project was how people alter their realities without realizing. Some people out there fear change—sometimes they fear it so much if becomes a genuine phobia.

My reality before the project consisted of my family and two best friends being my world (my dad was not included in the family group at the time), in the sense that they were what I saw every day and what I'd come to expect.

The project altered my reality when Nick and the kid became my world—my expectation. I expected to awkwardly skirt around Nick for the sake of a grade, and I expected the kid to be the sweet little girl that made my days with Nick tolerable, even fun.

These past three weeks, my reality has consisted of Nick as my boyfriend, visiting the kid at the orphanage, my family and friends' pity glaring onto me and Nick when we came back from visiting the kid.

Now my reality is the kid as my adopted sister, my friends and family behind me 24/7, and Nick is still my boyfriend.

What I mean with all this is that our realities change a little every day, even though we don't always notice. I think that was a bit of an underlining morale behind the project: expect change and learn how to deal with it.

Sometimes things change around us for the worse, but I've learned to think that those events are only parts of a chain reaction that will eventually lead to something better.

I'm saying (typing) all this to teach you guys something I had to learn the hard way—don't be afraid of changes. I used to hate them—as I said, my dad left us, I moved to Mexico, then my dad came back and I moved here… I was friends with Nick and then I wasn't… things like that. I didn't like change.

I don't think I'll ever _like _it (holding grudges—one of my finest attributes) but I can now understand that change doesn't mean it's the end of the world. It's not the end of my world—it's not the end of my reality.

I'm going to quote something (perhaps the only thing) I learned in Science class a few weeks back. No matter can be created nor destroyed, only transformed. I think that sort of applies to our realities—we can transform them, that's all. And sometimes those transformations aren't so bad.

Remember, people—the name's Max, short for _Maximum_ (call me Maxine and you die).

Fly on, as Nick always says for some reason (I haven't, in fact, asked about that one),

-Max.

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TAGS: _Revelation; surprise; secret; the __girl__; the __kid__; Home Eco; Project: Family; Max_

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*Nick does not use real people's names in his blog posts without express permission from said people. These names may be aliases chosen by said people. Please don't waste your time trying to 'sue' Nick in the comments section. It gets annoying after a while. Thank-you.*

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**AN:**

**How'd that turn out?**

**Thanks so much for all the support for this story—whereas it did not live up to PF's fame or review count, I'm happy that some of you really enjoyed it. And I'm happy that I kept my word and finished this story (albeit around a year later).**

**The final wordcount for this story, without ANs or Disclaimers or Claimers, is of 16, 398 words. **

**I'll return in exactly one month and delete all ANs for this story, leaving you with only the story content and Disclaimers/Claimers. Until then, I thank you all again for all the support and nice reviews. **

**As a final note: check out Project: Family—the original story—which is now completely edited, if you haven't already.**

**Thanks for everything, and happy holidays!**

**-DemiSpy.**


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